


On Wings of Steele (Or the One Where 00Q is a Job Title)

by FailSafePrime



Series: On Wings of Steele [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 002 is Q's favorite, Alec wishes GoldenEye never happened, BAMF!Q, Betrayal, But James is still Q's darling, FieldAgent!Q, James is confused, M/M, Q is a better field agent than most 00s, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailSafePrime/pseuds/FailSafePrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years ago, two boys joined MI6. The youngest died, the elder survived. James Bond faces his greatest challenge yet, a former Double-0 who not only has skills to put Silva to shame, but wears also the new Quartermaster's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The one where 00Q is a Literal Job Title

**Author's Note:**

> This story will not be written in a linear fashion. We'll jump back and forth through time in the beginning, but toward the middle of the story, the timelines will start consolidating into a linear method.
> 
> Also, I would like to thank [Fusterya](http://fusterya.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr whose encouragement on the [00Q Group on FaceBook](http://www.facebook.com/groups/247325658758760/) led to this story being shared. Thanks a bunch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one that came before and after Skyfall.

~*~

During Skyfall

“Take the damned shot,” Q, then R, remembers the steel in M’s voice as he stands at attention behind the Quartermaster, his mentor. He remembers the way her eyes dimmed and her shoulder slumped at the quiet words that follow the ringing of a gunshot.

_“Agent down.”_

~*~

After Skyfall

A prerecorded message:

M sits down in front of the camera, face stern. The overhead lights of Q branch make her pearls sparkle.

_“I do not doubt that you will receive this message one day, Quentin. It is the inevitability of time. I hope when you do, that you have become the Quartermaster. You must remember that I died as I lived, for Queen and Country. I was proud of you when you became a Double-O, and know that I will be proud of you when you become Quartermaster as well. I will never stop being proud of you, my Grandson.”_

Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. No mention of Quillan. The original recording had likely been discarded and this new one made to account for the fact that she only had one grandchild left. Olivia Mansfield was a practical woman like that.

~*~

Before Skyfall

Before all of that, he remembers when he was five years younger and there was Major Boothroyd’s voice in his ear, telling him to rendezvous with 008 on the outskirts of Dubai.

He remembers how 008 had grinned at him before they got into separate helicopters, every line on his face identical to his own. They were meant for different destinations after this mission and that had saved his life when insurgents fired missiles at them. He survived because 008 and taken control and maneuvered the helicopter between the missile and his transport. He remembers screaming for his brother as the explosion blinded him.

That explosion which had cost him his sight, his brother and his status as a field agent had also opened the way to his present. He has lost all of his family and holds the position that he will always consider to be rightfully his mentor’s.

“Good luck, 007,” he says crisply as he hands over the case containing a gun, a small radio and papers. “Do try to bring the equipment back in one piece this time.”

“Of course, Q,” 007 smiles, cold and smug, in response, and strides away.

~*~

Six Months Before Skyfall

Q remembers his last visit to Medical, and how M had looked equal parts happy and sad when she tells him she will arrange for him to take the field proficiency tests and that if he wasn’t maintaining his old skills, he should start right away. He knows his restored vision reminds her of the youngest of her grandsons (Quillan, 008, dead in Dubai with no body to bring home). He looks her in the eye and tells her he’ll be ready for the tests in one month’s time and knows his Grandmother’s heart will break if he passes them and dies in the field. But he will take that chance, because no matter how good he was with technology, he is a field agent, and he has spent five years chafing at the bit in Q Branch.

~*~

At Skyfall

M had always been larger than life, even when he was just a child, and she was prone to offering him sweets and an affectionate smile. He’s no longer a child, and even though he stands taller than her now, he has always felt like a child beside her. Hers was a strong personality, one that dwarfed everyone and everything.

It wasn’t right that M looked so small, lying on the floor of the ruined chapel at Skyfall, cradled in the arms of 007, who wept like a child who had just lost his mother. 

He turns away but does not allow his tears to fall. His Grandmother would never forgive him for the sentiment.

~*~

Two weeks after Skyfall

He remembers smashing a cup behind the closed doors of Boothroyd’s office, now his, after a meeting with Mallory, now M.

He has passed all his tests. His is cleared to work in the field. But only in extreme need. Double-O Quartermaster. Classified to the highest level, not even the Double-Os are to know.

He wants his Grandmother. Now more than ever he wants her crisp, sharp voice to hound him into obedience, telling him to be proud of his abilities.

His computer beeps. There is an email waiting for him. He knows what is it, a prerecorded message.

~*~

One year after Skyfall

_“Q branch do you have a visual on the mark?”_

Q’s fingers fly over the keys near as he replies, “We have him on camera 007. There is an alley thirty meters to your left.”

Q watches as Bond dashes through the crowded streets, and frowns as the facial recognition picks someone out of the crowd who is neither Bond nor the mark. He sends a text to Tanner and sends the footage to R to be looked over.

 _“It’s a dead end,”_ Bond growls.

The doors behind Q open and Tanner walks in, followed by one of the Q Branch interns.

“Over the wall, 007. If you manage it in the next five minutes you will intercept the mark in six.”

 _“Wonderful,”_ Bond grunts as he takes a running leap.

“Q?” R stands behind him, a careful distance away. She holds two printouts in her hands; one a photo of Q, and the other a photo showing a man, the lines of his face mirroring the Quartermaster’s despite the scarring. 

Distantly, he hears Bond grunt as he lands on the other side of the wall.

“There’s no doubt, sir,” R is saying, “It’s the former 008.”

In the periphery of his vision, Q sees Tanner, who had been in MI6 long enough to know his history, tense, his face blank. With the recent track record of supposedly dead Agents coming back to life, he was right to be wary. And there is only one other person who held a Double-O status and looks like Q.

“Quillan…” Q breathes the name of his brother for the first time in years, a cold, ugly knot forming in his belly.

 _“Q?”_ Bond says, his voice faintly concerned.

And Quentin Steele suddenly understands how Olivia Mansfield must have felt when faced with Raoul Silva, how Bond had felt faced with Vesper Lynd. Because his brother is alive but unlike Bond who came back when England needed her agents, Quillan had stayed away.

“Cut across the car park on your right, 007, and you should walk right into the mark,” Q says, thankful his voice doesn’t waver.

 _“Understood.”_ There is a moment of silence as Q watches Bond cross the car park on the CCTV footage. Bon pauses briefly to look around and presumably sees the mark at the same time Q does.

“Bond.”

_“I see him.”_

Q watches the scuffle quietly and once the mark has been subdued, Bond speaks again, “Target acquired. Extract please.”

“Well done, 007. The extraction team will be at your location in five minutes..”

Then the world explodes in a wash of heat and screaming. Q can only think, Quillan…

~*~

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on January 15, 2014 at [My DA](http://sanadasayuri.deviantart.com)
> 
> Edited on February 22, 2014


	2. A Will of Steele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where MI6 is blown up, again, and Alec wishes GoldenEye never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter here, I know. I promise that future chapters will be longer.

Thirteen Months after Skyfall

In the thirteen months that came after what was coming to be known as the Silva Incident, Q found himself accompanying a Double-O into the field no less than three times, and he knew that the tone had been set for any future missions. The Double-Os were well and truly convinced that their Quartermaster had a fragile constitution and absolutely must be coddled and protected at all costs. The problem with this was that the new M only ever sent the Quartermaster out when his particular skills were needed and the constant presence of the Double-Os was simply not conducive to getting work done. Thankfully, 002 seemed to be the only sane one of the group and not inclined to smother him in unwanted protection. Still, Q was a professional and took advantage of the time that 006 and 007 spent seducing their marks to suit up and get on with the second layer of the mission.

~*~

Alec Trevalyn glanced over the heads of the crowd toward his old friend, feeling his gut twist at the sight of James Bond flirting with a busty brunette. It was not easy to be a favorite son to the previous M, and the undercover operation he had run several years ago had strained his relationships with many people in MI6. James still couldn’t look him in the eye, and the only ones who treated him normally after the mission had ended had been the Quartermaster, Tanner, and M. It hurt, knowing that he was no longer trusted simply because of the actions he had taken during the mission. Hadn’t he done exactly what he had been told to do? He’d even dropped everything to return to England at the previous M’s behest to protect the new Quartermaster.

Not that Q wanted his protection. The new Quartermaster much preferred 002 to all of them even though it was blatantly obvious that he favored Bond. Q never went into the field without 002.

Alec turns his head and meets the eyes of the new Quartermaster, who watches him with cool, calculating eyes, and Alec is sure that he is nowhere near as fragile as the other Double-Os and a good chunk of MI6 seem to think he is. The new Quartermaster reminds Alec of a boy he had tested for Double-O status nine years ago. The boy had died during extraction from a mission in Dubai only five years past, and tonight, hair brushed with gel so the unruly mop is tamed and wearing sophisticated wire framed glasses and a charcoal Armani suit (Alec doesn’t need to get close to know that the jacket was tailored to hide a gun. He’d seen Q put on the holster before donning the jacket earlier.), the similarity is more striking than ever, and Alec is sure that those two, the dead Double-O and their new Quartermaster were brothers. There is no other reason for the physical similarities.

The Quartermaster raises a sardonic eyebrow and vanishes into the crowd. 002 appears from somewhere in the crowd, a willowy figure in red, and she follows the Quartermaster into the next room.

~*~

One Year after Skyfall

Q opens his eyes to silence and darkness. He takes a slow, shallow breath, testing the air on his tongue, tasting dust and heat. There is something on his legs, no pain, just pressure. So pinned, not crushed. Good. Very good. He flexes several muscles in his legs to see how pinned he is.

There is a quiet grinding something shifts above him and feels a small shower of dust and plaster falling onto his face. The pressure on his legs increases to the edge of pain. Q sighs. He can’t move or the unstable debris will collapse and crush him. Not so good.

He feels in his pocket and draws out his phone, running his fingers over the unblemished screen and turns it on. No connection. Well. He hardly expected much.

Q puts the useless phone into his pocket and closed his eyes. He smiled grimly into the dark. At least he’s not tied up. That would have been a nightmare to get out of with his legs pinned.

~*~

Thirteen Months after Skyfall

002 was relatively new to the Double-O program, but she had been a part of MI6 long enough to remember the Steele brothers. She knew that one had died in Dubai and the other had vanished into the depths of Q Branch. She had been only slightly surprised to walk into Q branch after the Silva Incident to meet with the new Quartermaster to find the remaining Steele brother walking 004 through his mission.

Since then, she had learned that the Quartermaster’s youthful features and slender build had given her fellow Double-Os the idea that he was innocent and fragile and needed protecting, much to his sometimes amusement and dismay. She knew he was attached to Bond; in thirteen months, 007 had gotten the best gadgets, been scolded the most out of all the Double-Os for recklessness, and was almost constantly in the Quartermaster’s office when not on duty.

But 002 was the Quartermaster’s favorite by far. She knew his history and did not smother him with unnecessary protection. She returned her equipment in the same condition as when they were issued to her and spoke with the Quartermaster without patronizing him and sparred with him at full strength. In return, Q took her with him as his support on missions and allowed her to hide out in his flat or his office when the quiet became overwhelming. There was no doubt that she was his favorite.

“Quartermaster,” she said, “When should I escort you back?”

“One hour, 002,” Q said calmly, folding his glasses and handing them to her. “If I do not reappear in one hour, proceed to the mark’s suite to apprehend him.”

“Yes sir.”

Q nodded briefly and disappeared down the hall.

002 looked at the glasses in her hand and was faintly amused to realize that they were plain, unmagnified glass. Apparently his eyes had recovered, and he’d told no one about it except perhaps his own direct superiors. She wondered how long it would be before the Quartermaster’s past exploits as a field agent came up in conversation. It would be quite the spectacle. She smiled to herself as she slipped Q’s glasses into a hidden pocket in her skirt and returned to the party.

The Quartermaster would be just fine.

~*~

One Year After Skyfall

MI6 had never seen Double-Os wrap up their missions quite so quickly. Normally, missions that would take days stretched into weeks, missions lasting weeks would turn into months, mostly due to the penchant of Double-Os falling off the grid. And apparently, a young, almost fragile Quartermaster being trapped under the wreckage of a bombed MI6 was one way to get missions wrapped in record time and every damned Double-O in England hours after.

“It rained last night. God, Q branch is at the bottom of the building, in the basement. What if the water didn’t drain? What if it’s flooded? What if Q is pinned and the basement is flooded by the rain? He could be drowning as we speak!”

Of course, the downside was that Mallory was now dealing with nine trained killers, each more deadly than the last, and all of them chafing at the bit to take a bite out of whomever had endangered their precious Quartermaster. And that was when they were not trying to kill him for not pulling Q out of the wreckage quickly enough for their tastes. He wasn’t sure what was more frightening, dealing with arrogant, angry Double-Os, or realizing that the Quartermaster was the only one who could actually control and soothe said Double-Os.

“M,” 002 said, “Has the Quartermaster contacted anyone?”

“Again, no.” Mallory sighed. Really. How did Q put up with them?

~*~

When Q opened his eyes again, the little grotto formed by the debris was damp and faintly cold. He pushed himself into a seated position, and was satisfied when the debris did not shift, though his legs were still pinned. Apparently it had been raining. Q grimaced, thanking whatever powers were out there that it had not rained enough to raise the water level very significantly and that apparently the drainage system was working. There was no more dust in the air, though if the damp grit under his hands were any indication, the rain had washed it all out of the air. He quickly ran his fingers over the surrounding rock—that is if you can call chunks of broken brick and concrete rock—and found a trickle of water close to his head. It took a bit of doing, but Q was able to contort his body to place his mouth on the trickle.

The water was metallic and dusty, and Q grimaced but drank what he could before laying back down. He’d need several shots because God only knew what sort of contaminants were in the water, but he’d done worse to survive.

And he would survive. He would. And once he was out, he was going to track down the person who set the explosives and then he was going to ruin them.

~*~

Thirteen Months after Skyfall

002 was crouched behind the dividing wall separating the kitchen from sitting room in the penthouse suite, waiting for the mark to arrive. She fully expected a man who looked like the Quartermaster, but was decidedly not, as Q did not have burns on his hands and covering half his face stroll in. What she did not expect was the limp form of the Quartermaster, suit rumbled and hair disheveled once more, being dragged in behind him by two goons. The youth’s head lolled as he was dumped unceremoniously into a chair and his wrists handcuffed behind his back.

She frowned and caught a glimpse of the Quartermaster’s eyes, slightly unfocused and squinting, before the mop of hair obscured them. Well, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Where were 006 and 007? She was going to need them to get the Quartermaster out safely.

“Frankly, I consider myself disappointed,” the Q look-alike said in gravely tones (002 realized that this was likely because of damaged vocal chords), “I cannot imagine that you would have fallen so far, Quentin. Once, it would have been impossible to sneak up on you. You’ve fallen a long way from the youngest recruited Double-O in MI6 history.”

“Then you will continue to be disappointed, Quillan,” Q’s posh diction was slightly slurred, much to the alarm of the hidden Double-O, “for falling for such a simple trick.” 

His voice was suddenly clear and the Quartermaster was instantly on his feet, and two high kicks were all it took to disable the two goons. In the meantime, something in his watch had cut the chain on the handcuffs, and Q had his hands free. Quillan backed away, face blank.

The Quartermaster smirked, arrogant and dangerous as he smoothed down his hair and adjusted the fall of his suit, “Apparently strip searches are for lesser beings and not former Double-Os. Dear me, Quillan, you have completely forgotten who is more dangerous between us. Come out, 002.”

002 smiled and pulled out her berretta and took aim as she stood up from behind the low dividing wall. The former 008 looked slightly panicked at her appearance, 002 noted with some satisfaction.

The door was kicked in and 006 and 007 made their tardy appearance.

“006 and 007. How kind of you to join us. You are late,” Q snapped.

The two tardy agents have the sense to look abashed, and then they see the mark. 006’s eyes widen and his hands loosen around the grip of his gun though he doesn’t quite drop it. On the other hand, 007 stops breathing when he takes in the similarities between the Quartermaster and the mark. Q clears his throat meaningfully, and the two men snap their attention back to the task at hand.

~*~

One Year After Skyfall

Q opens his eyes to shouting. Thin beams of light are slanting down through tiny holes and dust in drifting through the air again. A bit of concrete is moved, and he can see a bit of sky. More debris is moved and a face fills the range of his vision. Backlit by the sun, Q cannot tell who his rescuer is, even when he moves his hand to block the sun from his eyes.

“Quartermaster?” the person says, and Q breathes a sigh of relief.

“002,” he says as calmly as he can while cold and hungry, “My legs are pinned.”

“Understood sir,” she moves back slightly and shouts at the rescuers.

It takes a while for them to dig him out. Q is patient though, because he would rather not loose his ability to walk. When his legs are freed, he is hauled out of the rubble by 007, and the Double-Os are suddenly around him, clamoring for attention. Q is tired and hungry, and has developed a headache that the children in grown men and women’s bodies are not helping. He closes his eyes and drops to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The Double-Os get louder in their worry, but Q determinedly keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even and shallow. 002, Godsend that she is, silences them and has them carry him to a waiting medical team.

Q falls into true sleep knowing he is safe, surrounded by nine of the most deadly people in MI6.

~*~

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on January 16, 2014 at [My DA](http://sanadasayuri.deviantart.com)
> 
> Edited on February 22, 2014


	3. To Reach the Steele Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a common thread that runs through the events of the past year, and Quillan tries to plant a seed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is written in a non-linear fashion and there are at least three different story lines going on at the same time. I'm gone back and marked time skips wherever they are. Also, alternating POVs.
> 
> My estimates for when the story will converge into only one timeline appears to be really bad, so I won't try to get your hopes up. I _will_ however, promise that the story will be written in a more linear pattern. Eventually.

~*~

Thirteen months after Skyfall

Q hisses quietly as he scrapes his knuckles against the wall, and moves on to the next handhold as he scales the white stone façade of the manor house. He remembers that five years ago, he would have scaled the side of the house in no time at all and with no damage to his person. These days though, he is out of practice, and it shows in his scraped knuckles and the almost unnoticeable snag on the knees and elbow of his jacket. He glances up and down to mark his position and hauls himself up another few feet to the third story balcony that was his objective.

He huffs as he crouches on the railing to catch his breath and curses the paranoia of the mark. Things would be so much simpler if he could have taken the stairs. But then again, he thinks as he drops off the railing onto the balcony and proceeds to pick the lock, its not paranoia if they really are out to get you, and MI6 was certainly out to get this man. The lock clicks open. He doesn’t touch the handle.

“Quartermaster to Q Branch, the balcony is unlocked. Do I need to be aware of any booby traps?” he murmurs.

 _“Negative, sir,”_ R’s crisp voice comes over the earwig, _“No traps on the door.”_

“Sure?” Q asked dryly, “I would hate to become fried Quartermaster the instant I touch the handle.”

 _“Positive, sir,”_ R said, _“Just be careful of the razor wire that is neck height six meters in. There is also a laser tripwire three meters to the left of the door approximately four centimeters off the ground. Pressure plate in the center of the office. No explosives. Likely some sort of inert gas to preserve the books.”_

“Brilliant and paranoid,” Q sighed as he cautiously pushed the door open and slipped inside, mindful of the laser tripwire he’d been warned about, “How is this my life?”

 _“You signed up for it, sir,”_ R said wryly, _“You could have stayed safe in Q Branch, but the instant Medical declared that you had fully recovered your sight, you were off to take the field readiness exam.”_

Q smiles as he shuts the balcony door behind him and his voice is affectionate as he tells her, “Hush, you.”

He is halfway across the library when he just barely registers a click and swears under his breath and freezes in place.

“R, exactly how many pressure plates did you say there were?”

_“One, sir.”_

“And just how large is the pressure plate?”

Q hears the clicking of keystrokes as R begins typing frantically, _“About… Three by three meters?”_

“And now I’m on top of it. As I’ve yet to be gassed, I assume it is either timed or a step off trigger. A bit of help will be appreciated.”

_“Working on it, sir.”_

“Be quick about it,” Q advised, “Because if it is a timed trigger instead of a step off trigger, then we won’t have very much time before the trap activates.”

~*~

One Year after Skyfall

When Q woke in an unfamiliar bed and judging by the antiseptic scent, he was in a hospital. Then he remembered what had happened and a ball of fury erupted in his chest. This was the second time that MI6 had been bombed, and the mere thought that anyone could do something like this even with the updated security annoyed him. He sat up and was not surprised when the nine Double-Os, who had been sleeping in various locations around the room, roused at the sound of sheets rustling.

“Someone get me a laptop or my phone,” he said firmly as 004 handed him his glasses. “At once, please. Then summon a doctor. I will not be here a moment longer than I have to.”

The Double-Os immediately protested. “I do not think this course of action is wise, Quartermaster,” 002 said, her even voice cutting through the cacophony.

Q frowned and put on his glasses, “You know how I feel about this situation. Fetch a physician. Immediately.”

004 opened a bedside drawer and handed him his phone while 002 said, “I protest this course of action, Sir. You were injured in the blast and have been trapped under the remnants of Q Branch for three days without sustenance.”

“I acknowledge your protest and choose to disregard it on grounds that I have lived in worse conditions,” Q said sharply as his fingers flew over the screen.

“Q,” Bond said as he covered the phone with his hand, prompting Q to look up at him in annoyance, “you should rest. MI6 won’t collapse without you.”

Q glared and protested but allowed the older man to take the phone out of his hand and coax him into lying back down.

As it turns out, the uncharacteristic cooperative behavior spooks MI6’s medical staff so badly that they let the Quartermaster leave without complaint. 

~*~

Thirteen Months after Skyfall

Bond’s wonders if he’s dreaming when he realizes that the mark’s face is identical to the Quartermaster’s but for the scarring. He doesn’t realize that he’s stopped breathing until Q clears his throat meaningfully, and he finally inhales.

“Gentlemen, do restrain Mr. Steele,” Q says crisply.

The mark grins cruelly as Bond and Trevelyn grab him and twist his arms behind his back, “Which one? Don’t forget that you are also a Steele, brother.”

Bond glances at the Quartermaster, whose face is twisted in a cold fury before his expression smoothed into impassivity.

“I have no brother, Mr. Steele,” Q says coldly as he walks toward the door, “and even if I did, he would not be a traitor.”

Bond doesn’t need to see Alec to know that he flinches. As the Quartermaster passes them, Q brushes his knuckles against Alec’s sleeve; an acknowledgement of the barb that had not been intended for him. Alec lowers his eyes and peers at Q through his eyelashes, before raising his eyes again, and Q nods in return, a tiny motion. Bond feels his stomach knot at the glimpse of silent understanding between his old friend and his Quartermaster.

The glimpse of intimacy between the Quartermaster and Alec is broken as 002 ushers them out of the penthouse, keeping her body firmly between the former 008 and Q.

~*~

One Year After Skyfall

MI6 operations are moved back into the underground tunnels and for the first time since he took up the position as Quartermaster; Q had abandoned his cardigans and off the rack slacks in favor of bespoke suits made from Yorkshire wool. His clunky glasses are replaced with elegant wire rimmed spectacles and his hair is brushed back away from his face, tamed for the first time in any of the Double-Ohs’ memories. They don’t need to look closely to know that the Quartermaster has a gun under his jacket and knives up his sleeves, or that he is furious about the breach.

Tanner and senior technicians in Q Branch step around the suited and armed Quartermaster on tiptoes, and even M treats Q as though he were a particularly volatile Double-Oh. The Double-Ohs, with the exception of 002, have no idea how to handle the new, (or is it old?) more dangerous version of the Quartermaster, though 007 makes a brave stab at normality by more or less baiting the younger man about his age and slipping innuendo into every sentence. Whatever the case, Q appreciates the gesture and the tension visibly bleeds out of his shoulders in the presence of 002 or 007.

Eve Moneypenny would compare the situation to the bombing that preceded the Skyfall Incident, but it is wholly different because back then, Q did not loom over Q branch like a particularly ominous thundercloud any more than did he stalk through MI6 with the very distinctive gait of a field agent on the prowl. Eve is sure now that she and Q share this little bit of history in common; that they are both field agents who left the field for the office. She does not try to find out what Q specialized in during his tenure in the field though. The Quartermaster’s past is classified beyond her clearance after all.

~*~

Thirteen Months After Skyfall

Bond notices immediately when 002 returns to the party sans Quartermaster and feels a pang of worry. Former field agent or no, Q is an executive now, and after five years of being desk bound in Q Branch, he was out of practice. What ever it is that Q is after, he hopes that Q gets it without the problems that often plagued the Double-Ohs.

 _“The Quartermaster is on the move,”_ 002’s voice is calm on the line, _“I will meet him on the veranda in one hour. If he fails to appear, we are to make our way to the mark’s suite to apprehend him.”_

Bond feels his blood run cold at the thought that the Quartermaster may miss his drop. Field agents only missed a drop for two reasons, they were held up by mission unrelated circumstances beyond their control, or they had been compromised. MI6 couldn’t afford to have the Quartermaster compromised. And if he were honest with himself, he didn’t want the Quartermaster compromised. He wanted Q safe behind MI6, downstairs in the bunkers of Q Branch. Failing that, he wanted Q where he could keep an eye on him and see any threats coming from miles away.

~*~

Before Skyfall

The old tests to clear an agent for the field is not the modern battery of physical and psychological tests that are done individually; but an out and out battle between the testing agent and two senior agents followed by a brief chat with the Psyche Branch. The old testing rooms for the field readiness tests are still usable, and M orders the only Double-Oh other than Bond with any experience with the old tests to be brought in solely for this purpose. This is how MI6 learns that the GoldenEye Incident with 006 was almost entirely a ruse and Alec Trevelyan had been acting under orders from M the entire time in addition to the fact that despite Bond’s best efforts all those years ago, 006 was still alive.

MI6 is wary of Trevelyan when he returns, and for good reason. He had caused a great deal of damage during the GoldenEye Incident, and under orders or no, he had killed or crippled many good agents. During the two weels in which the old training rooms are cleaned and set up, Trevelyan and Bond hash things out. Tension still hung between them though. There was too much hurt and mistrust to be completely eliminated in a week, but they are professionals. If M wants the two senior field agents to test a former field agent’s field readiness in the old way, Trevelyan and Bond will have to work together, and they can do that.

Trevelyan and Bond administer the exam under the watchful eye of M, Tanner, and with Medical observing from the wings. The boy is covered from head to toe, and he has to be only a boy, because he is whippet thin and all gangly knees and elbows. They don’t underestimate him just because of his appearance. M is a hard woman but she wouldn’t put a new agent through tests that had been phased out years ago due to the high risk of unintentional debilitating injury to both examiners and examinee simply to have another agent on the field. He has to have been a field agent familiar with the old tests, which means he’s been in MI6 at least five years and served in the field for at least four years. They fully expect the boy to put up a good fight but crumble under the pressure of two Double-Ohs after a few minutes.

What they don’t expect is for the boy to come at them using a combination of modern techniques and techniques that had only been taught to field agents ten years ago. What they don’t expect is for the boy to not only return the onslaught, but to pressure two Double-Ohs enough that they stop the tag-team tactics and take him seriously. They were expecting a good agent who like other good agents, would hold their own under pressure for a few minutes before crumbling. What they got was a seasoned agent, easily Double-Oh potential.

For a while, faced with the agent M wanted them to test, it’s like old times, and James and Alec laugh and snark at each other as they rain down taunts, paint balls and punches onto the boy’s head. In the old days, even fellow Double-Ohs must crumble under the combined strength of Alec and James, and this boy is no different. When he finally crumbles, it has been a forty five minutes. They are all three out of paint balls and have resorted to the red washable markers that stand in for knives and their own fists. The boy held his own quite admirably, but Alec eventually managed to pin him, though not before the boy achieved his own objectives of “slitting” James’ throat and completed a handoff.

The three are given their scores together, M having taken advantage of this to apply the exams to James and Alec as well. The boy’s marksmanship is adequate, his hand to hand is good, his stealth is excellent, stamina is excellent, dexterity and flexibility also excellent; all to be expected considering his youth. Alec and James did not fare so well, though they were still very much excellent at what they did but a little downhill movement of their scores were to be fully expected; they’re aging men after all.

It’s not until two months later when Alec is leaving for a mission in Moscow and James for Prague that they realized that they were James and Alec again rather than Bond and Trevelyan as it had been in the weeks before the boy’s test. They wish M had let them know his name; they’d like to thank him for bringing their old brotherhood back.

(When they asked, M had given them a hard look and told them that she trusted them about as much with the boy’s identity as she did their ability to keep their equipment intact. That is, not at all. James and Alec don’t take offence, because clearly, M had plans for the boy.)

James still gives Alec a sad look sometimes and Alec hesitates before letting James set a fuse, but considering what they’ve been through, it’s a miracle that they even trust each other to the extent that they do now.

~*~

Thirteen Months after Skyfall

The same holding cell that Silva had been contained in was the new home of the former 008. It rattled many agents to see the Quartermaster’s face, though badly scarred and burnt, on a rogue former agent.

They were separated by the glass walls of the cell, on the inside, the former 008, the entire right side of his face a mess of burn scars, his voice badly damaged by heat, one green eye covered in milky film, stripped of his fine suit. But even in prison garb, he lounged on the small bench like a king.

Outside, to the left and behind M, was the Quartermaster. On his left was 007, and to his right, Tanner and Eve. Q wore a fresh suit in charcoal, his skin smooth and unblemished, youthful features cold and implacable. When he spoke, his voice was clear and smooth and he stood with the self-assured posture of a man who knew he was the most dangerous creature in the room.

The similarities were mind-boggling and Gareth Mallory felt as though he’d been doused in ice water, watching the two. The Steele Brothers had been the most dangerous and subtle Double-Ohs in the program in their day. Combined, they were a greater threat than Silva, who had mentored the boys in the use of cyberspace toward the completion of their mandate almost a decade ago.

If Quillan Steele was dangerous, what of the Quartermaster who had the codes to destroy the world in his head? He glimpsed out the corner of his eye as Bond brushed shoulders with Q, and the youth leaned briefly into the touch before straightening. Quillan had been compromised and turned against them despite his Grandmother and his Brother. If family ties couldn’t hold the once 008, how could simple affection for a few Double-Ohs who had no clear idea of what their Quartermaster was capable of keep Q firmly in MI6?

“Doubt is an insidious thing, isn’t it, brother?” Quillan called. “Your agents will never be able to look at you without seeing me in your shadow now. Not even the new M. They will always doubt you and your intent.”

Q strode forward to stand beside Mallory and ignored the tension in his shoulders. Instead, he gave the prisoner the filthiest, most contemptuous look he could without his face twisting into something ugly.

“This is an intelligence agency. Every person here is a spy. Only a complete fool lacking self-preservation would fail to doubt the intentions of the person beside them. Spare us the mind games,” Q replied, his voice clear and pronunciation perfect as ever. “We have no time for your metaphysical posturing.”

Quillan smirked, “Oh? And yet here you are. Once, you were one of the youngest of the Double-Ohs. Look at you now; the youngest Quartermaster. What’s next? The youngest M? Will you change your name from our father’s to grandmother’s just for the position?”

Q gave a predator’s smile with a threat in every exposed tooth, “You’re projecting, Mr. Steele. You always were the ambitious one.”

“You were never ambitious enough,” Quillan snarled as he surged to his feet, “and look where it’s got our grandmother. Dead. And at the hands of a third rate, washed up cyber terrorist with a mother complex no less. If you’d left your precious computers behind and taken her to Mansfield House instead of letting a physical wreck of a man take M to Skyfall, she would still be alive!”

“M and 007 made the best choices available to them at the time. There is no guarantee that even if she had been brought to Mansfield House, that Olivia Mansfield would still be alive to this day,” Q said gently, his fury betrayed only by the tensing of his shoulders and the clenching of his fists. “If you wanted to protect M so badly, perhaps you should come back to London when given the chance. Though he is the epitome of the ill behaved, half trained dog; 007 returned and was welcomed back with no questions asked. Even 006, the chained and beaten mongrel that he is came home when he was called. You had every opportunity to do the same.”

“Come to London?” Quillan asked in a conversational tone so false it was insulting, “And be as thoroughly broken to heel as you were? To bow and scrape to your every whim the way your precious Double-Ohs do? Please. If anything, seeing the way M threw the away lives of her favorites made me glad to stay away.”

Q’s eyes sparked and he said dryly in a voice sweet as honey and sharper than glass, “You were one of those Double-Ohs once. And if you were so afraid of dying, Mr, Steele, then you should have stayed away; curled up in a hole somewhere and never come back out. Of course, you are here now. Live with it, Mr. Steele, after all, regret is unprofessional.”

He turned sharply on his heel and strode away. Bond followed him.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Quillan roared, “You owe me your life! I own you!”

Q didn’t break stride as he called over his shoulder, “Sentiment is a chemical defect found only in the loosing side, Mr. Steele; and your sentiment is showing.”

The doors slid shut behind him.

Mallory stayed for a moment and watched as Quillan swore furiously and glared at the vanishing form of the Quartermaster. He made a snap decision and stepped closer to the cell.

“You know,” Mallory said dryly, “you have to wonder, if we doubted the Quartermaster, why would we let him into a position where he could destroy us all with a few keystrokes?”

Quillan smiled and said, “If you trust him so much, why did you create a new Double-Oh designation for him? Why do you give him work that puts him in the field so often? I don’t think there has ever been a Quartermaster who spent quite as much time in the field before this.”

“A Quartermaster who is stagnant is a worthless one,” Mallory said firmly, “MI6 is better served if the current Quartermaster’s restlessness is channeled into something productive, and if inspiring his innovations means giving him fieldwork, then he will receive fieldwork.”

He turned and left the room. They could trust Q, Mallory decided, because Q was still here. He’d brought in his brother personally where anyone else in the same position would have let him go. Q might be the Quartermaster, but he was also a Double-Oh, and if there was one thing that was unquestionable, it was that for the most part, Double-Ohs were stupidly loyal to their country.

The Quartermaster was a Double-Oh, and that made him no different from Bond. The only difference was that Q was more dangerous with a computer.

~*~

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempt at witty banter became brothers shouting at each other. Oops. Failsafe needs more practice.


End file.
